Free Cowboy For Hire by Alice Duncan Page B

murmured Huxtable, preening. “The
ignorance of folks from the sticks is insupportable.” Turning to
Amy, he leered and waggled his eyebrows. “Ready for another stab at
it, my little dove?”
    As she sucked in a huge breath of desert air,
Charlie thought she didn’t look as if she’d ever be ready for this.
Before she could either say so or lie, Charlie spoke again.
    “I think you ought to mind your manners, Mr.
Huxtable.” He kept his tone friendly. “And cut out the suggestive
comments to Miss Wilkes. She don’t like them.”
    Huxtable sighed deeply. “Go to hell, Mr. Fox.
You’re an intolerable bore.”
    “Probably,” Charlie agreed amiably. “But I
still don’t aim to listen to you talk dirty to Miss Wilkes.”
    “Then plug your ears. The wench is a handful,
but if I have my way, I’ll know her inside and out before this
picture is—”
    He didn’t get to finish the sentence, because
Charlie, with remarkably little effort, socked him in the jaw.
Horace toppled like a felled oak.
    “Oh, my God,” Martin said, goggling at the
scene, slapping a hand to his head and beginning to tug on a lock
of hair.
    “Oh, my goodness!” cried Amy.
    Huxtable was out like a light. Charlie
reached down and hauled him up by the front of his fashionable sack
suit coat. The actor’s head lolled about like a pumpkin on a vine.
Presenting him to Martin, Charlie said, “Sorry about that, Martin,
but I can’t tolerate men abusing women in my hearing.”
    Patently unhappy about this latest turn of
events, Martin said, “I know he’s difficult to take, Charlie, but
did you have to punch him?”
    Charlie shrugged. “Reckon I did. He
wouldn’t’ve shut up otherwise.”
    Amy, at a loss for words, only stared at
them.
    “I suppose that’s so.” Martin turned and
yelled into the crowd of movie people who’d begun gathering when
they’d smelled a fight brewing. “Somebody come over here and get
Huxtable to his tent. Give him some … give him some water or
something. Keep him away from the booze, for the love of God.” A
sour glance at his star prompted him to add, “And better get some
cold rags on his jaw. It’s going to swell or I’m a monkey’s
uncle.”
    “Oh, dear,” murmured Amy.
    “Didn’t mean to cause you grief, Miss
Wilkes,” Charlie told her, fearing she was one of those city girls
who couldn’t tolerate violence even if it was perpetrated for their
sake.
    Her eyes were as big as saucers and as blue
as the sky when she looked up at him. “Oh, no, Mr. Fox! Please
don’t think anything of it. I’m glad you hit him.” She sounded
quite fierce, and Charlie wondered if she’d have hit Huxtable
herself after a few more of his nasty comments. Maybe she had more
spunk than he’d given her credit for.
    Martin muttered, “This is going to slow
things down. We’ll have to wait to do any camera work until that
jaw goes down.” He rubbed his chin and thought hard. “Maybe we can
shoot him from the right side.”
    “You can shoot him in the head, for all I
care,” Amy said, and Martin looked alarmed.
    Yes, she definitely had more spunk than
Charlie had originally believed.
    “I’m very sorry, Miss Wilkes. I know Huxtable
can be a terrible tease.”
    “He’s more than a tease,” she said with
energy. “He’s a vulgar, licentious reprobate.”
    Martin sighed deeply. “I’m afraid you may be
right. I don’t know why Lovejoy wanted him for this picture.”
    “If he talks to Miss Wilkes like that again,
I’ll do the same thing,” Charlie said, keeping his tone mild. “I’m
sorry, Martin, but there it is.” He wanted Martin to know what was
what. Maybe Martin could talk some sense into Huxtable, although it
seemed unlikely. Huxtable’s ego was huge, and his head seemed hard
and impenetrable.
    Charlie was both pleased and surprised when
Amy laid a hand on his arm. “Oh, Mr. Fox, please don’t. It’s partly
my fault for reacting to his taunts. I’m sure that’s what he wants.
I should